


The Plan

by Winterling42



Series: Flesh and Blood and Dust [30]
Category: His Dark Materials - Philip Pullman, Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Backstory, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:05:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6862273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Winterling42/pseuds/Winterling42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Furiosa lays out what they'll do, once out of the Vault. Good-byes are said.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“We have ten days until the supply run,” Furiosa said, sweeping away the chattering uncertainties of the Wives. “On the tenth night, I’ll come for you. It’ll be late, and you’ll have to be _quiet_.”

“We will be,” Capable said, leaning forward, a hand on Adara’s back like it was no big deal. Like she belonged there. The lioness only watched Furiosa, like she knew as well as Capable that they were closer than breathing, closer than skin. Furiosa looked away and bit back the instinct to say _quieter than that_.

“I checked the hold again today,” she said instead, because there was no good way to say what she knew, standing with her head bent in that tiny space. “There’s room for five.”

“That’s good isn’t it?” Toast asked first, before the realization sank in. Capable looked at Miss Giddy right away. The old History Woman nodded, a peculiar smile on her face. An old smile, a smile that had seen the end of the world come and go.

“We’ll make room then,” Angharad said fiercely, at the same time Cheedo said, “We’ll stay then!”

She clapped her hands over her mouth when the Wives all stared at her, when Furiosa felt her jaw tighten and Miss Giddy reached out to put a ink-covered hand on her shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Cheedo said, very quiet. Her bat swept down from his perch in the darkest corner of the ceiling to cling to her shoulder, wide eyes blinking rapidly in the sunset. “We’re more used to the Vault than you. We’ll be alright.” She turned to look up at Miss Giddy, pretending her smile was not hiding tears. “It’ll be safe.”

“Child,” Miss Giddy said, wrapping Cheedo in a hug, careful to avoid Jiemba’s wings. “Haven’t I told you yet? There’s no such thing as safe when you’re alive. I’ve lived a good deal longer than I was meant to, my girl. But you haven’t gotten a chance to be your own heroes yet.” She pulled back and cupped Cheedo’s face between her hands, her smile kinder when she met the Wife’s dark eyes, so like her daemon’s. “I’m staying here. My story’s almost finished. But yours is just beginning, Cheedo. You have to live it to know how it ends.”

Cheedo looked away. Toast sat with her elbows braced on her knees, leaning forward and not even pretending not to listen. The Dag was tapping her fingers against Pheona’s spine, her face still but her eyes smiling. Angharad was looking at Furiosa with her jaw clenched, one hand clenched in the ruff of her daemon’s neck. Capable was the one to reach out and cover Angharad’s hand with hers, exchange looks with the gold-haired Wife and nod. Angharad didn’t even look back to Furiosa, turned her back on the Imperator and leaned her head onto Capable’s shoulder. She did not look like a fire, when she sat like that. She looked tired, and hurt, and aching.

“You know how to fire a shotgun?” Furiosa asked Miss Giddy, tearing her eyes off of Angharad’s back. Leander cawed once in surprise, but Miss Giddy nodded.

“Once upon a time,” she said, and Furiosa had never been a part of her lessons but she still waited half a beat for the old woman to finish the statement.

“You’ll have one the night we leave,” the Imperator assured her. “You’ll only get one shot.”

“Understood,” Miss Giddy said, sounding as sharp as her raven.

Furiosa took a deep breath. This was happening, and she had to ride the wave she was making. It was that, or fall under the sand and suffocate. “Then all you have to do is wait.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Outtake! Conversation on what Furiosa's plans are once they're out of the Citadel. This didn't fit with the first chapter, but it's got some really good things I wanted you guys to see.

“There will be Boys in the hold to check on trade goods and tanks,” Furiosa said. “They don’t know about the place you’re hiding. Keep quiet and they won’t know you’re there.”

“What about after? What will you do about them?” Angharad asked, and her tone was casual but the sudden hunting-stillness in her daemon was not.

Furiosa rolled the question over in her head, wondering how to answer it. Wondering if she could live up to her answer for it. This was a choice, and though the choice stayed put whether or not Angharad was there, she couldn’t help feeling like Splendid was the one to whom the answer mattered.

“There’s a good chance it won’t be a full crew by the time they realize what I’ve done,” she said, fighting to keep her voice even. This was the plan whether she took the Wives or not. Her crew would never stand for her defection. There were a lot of things an Imperator could force War Boys into, but traitoring Joe wasn’t one of them. “If I get lucky, they’ll be taken out by others, Buzzards and Rock Riders.”

“And if you’re not lucky?” the Dag demanded, always pragmatic.

“Then I kill them.” Furiosa looked at Angharad, at Capable, at the Dag. They all looked horrified, but the words made a quiet space in Furiosa’s head. She knew she could do it, was all. Especially if their numbers were thinned by an outside attack.

It was easy enough to say the words in the Vault, and even mean them, but it was another thing to walk into her Garage and crook a smile at Ace, listen to Slagger brag about pulling flips on his bike, watch Morsov paint details of a dancing skeleton on a bike’s fuel tank, and know she meant to kill them. She could have told herself they were half-life, that they would die anyway. That they would be happy to die historic, if she forced their hands.

She could have told herself that, but it would have made it easy to hurt them, and she did not do it. It was enough that she would betray them; she would not lessen their deaths by making them faceless War Boys. She knew their names. The least she could do was remember them.


End file.
